Magic England x Reader
by IggyAndScones
Summary: I'd say that England's ultimate weapon was Magic, more precisely Dark Magic. Well, it was, anyway. Until she changed everything.
1. Prologue

Magic.

Dark Magic, to be precise.

That's his favourite weapon. His ultimate weapon. His top-secret weapon.

Or at least it was, until she came along.

"(Y/n)," came The Lord's voice. A girl with (short/long) (curly/wavy/straight) (h/c) locks fluttered over, her gorgeous white wings shimmering in the sunlight.

She bowed to him, looking down in respect.

"Hello," came her voice. "To what may I be of use?"

"I am sending you to earth. I have foreseen a cold battle, and you are to change many people's fate."

(y/n) nodded in agreement, though many questions ran through her head. In her lifetime, Earth was bound to be different than it was now. And why her? She wasn't a major angel, nor one of the powerful ones. But it was extremely disrespectful to question The Lord, so she kept quiet.

"I will have you know that you will have no recollection of ever being here, but I assure you that I can see that it will work out just fine."

She nodded again, closing her eyes.

Just like that, she vanished.


	2. Chapter 1

"I can't believe we're stuck on another bloody island," grumbled England.

The Allies' ship had been sunk, because of a miscalculation (lazy author), and they were the only ones that managed to survive.

Ley's just say, being a country had it's perks. Like better stamina and strength than normal humans, plus a more advanced mind. These were mostly the reasons that England, America, France, China, Russia and Canada (I'm adding Canada 'cause he was an ally in WW2) had made it to land alive.

"Da," agreed Russia.

"Dude, at least we're alive!" said America, flashing his signature smile. England rolled his eyes.

They were all quiet for a few seconds before England started blaming France for the miscalculation, since they were on his ship, and the two broke into an all-out fight.

"Bloody frog! This is all your fault!"

"BLACK SHEEP OF EUROPE!"

"Hahaha! I'm the Hero!"

"Stop the fighting, aru!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada..."

Russia just stood there, watching the scene unfold with his usual, somewhat creepy smile, until a melody reached his ears. His dark aura disappeared and curiosity overcame him.

"Hey guys, are you hearing the music?" he said, and, surprisingly, the frenzy stopped, leaving England and France very bruised.

"What is that?" asked China, walking over to where Russia was standing, followed by America, Canada, England and finally France. They all stopped talking to hear the amazingly sweet song unfold.

"It's very beautiful, eh?" asked Canada, breaking the silence.

"Oui(yes), very beautiful," agreed France.

The Allies followed the beautiful sound, ignoring the fact that it led them through a large forest. It was almost as if the song had put them into a trance, but that wasn't possible. Right?

At the very heart of the island, right smack in the middle of the warm forest, they found a girl, looking around the age of 20, playing a seemingly handmade flute, oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. She wore torn and tattered clothes (thankfully covering *cough* private *cough* areas), and she had (long/short) (h/c) hair, extremely tangled and untied.

The girl looked like the most average person in the world, yet something about her made her seem angelic. Her passion? Maybe. It was hard to tell.

She finished her song, and her (e/c) eyes widened in shock and her body stiffened when she spotted the Allies just standing there, eagerly listening to her music. The girl pocketed her flute and stood up cautiously.

"Who are you?" she asked, voice sounding about as sweet as her music. The Allies remained silent for some reason, still lost in her tune. She rolled her eyes.

"Hey guys!" she snapped her fingers irritably in front of each of their faces. "I'll ask again, who are you?"

That did the trick.

"My apologies love, we were simply captivated by your music and-" England was cut off by the girl.

"I don't care. Have you come here to invade me? And who are you?" she asked, irritation sounding through her words.

"My name is England, love. This is-" Once again, the Brit was cut off.

"Sup dudette? I'm the Hero, but you can call me America!" came America's cheery voice. The girl smirked, and the rest of the Allies introduced themselves.

"I'm China, aru!"

"M-my name is C-Canada, nice to meet you..."

"They call me France, ma chérie (my dear)!"

"I'm Russia, we have not come to invade, da?"

The girl sighed in relief, knowing that they weren't invading, introduced herself as (c/n), and became much nicer than before.

(C/n) said that she was a country, but rarely turned up for meetings since she didn't have enough money to transport herself there and to feed her nation. That explained why none of the Allies had heard of her. Her island was around the same size as Italy's country, and she also said that Sealand often stopped by to try and invade. But (c/n)'s millitary was suprisingly strong for such a poor country, so she had no trouble whatsoever in defending herself.

She welcomed the Allies to stay with her until someone came with help without charge, making them all feel guilty. So they donated her some money, and although (c/n) said it wasn't necessary, the group could see the longing in her eyes.

Their visit was so pleasurable that when help came, they didn't want to leave.

Needless to say, the Allies felt very fortunate to have come across that island


	3. Chapter 2

"Bye guys!" (C/n), or (y/n) (l/n) called as the Allies boarded a large private plane. She sighed in envy. They really had a lot of money, didn't they?

"Пока, это было приятно познакомиться! (Bye, it was nice to meet you!)" called Russia, whom was boarding the massive bird first. He was soon followed by Canada, America, France, China and finally Britain.

But England hesitated at the door.

"Surely she can come with us?" he called into the plane, asking the other Allies for answers, and (y/n) felt her heart skip a beat. On a iprivate plane?/i With the iAllies?/i

Then came all the countries' agreements.

"Yeah dude! She's cool, bro!"

"Да (Yes)! I like the little sunflower!"

"S-sure! If everyone e-else agrees."

"I am in agreement, aru!"

"But of course, elle est très belle (she is very pretty)!"

"Well come on then, love," said Britain, holding the plane door for (y/n) like the gentleman he was.

"B-but" stuttered (y/n). "What about my people?"

"Don't worry love," reassured England. "They need to get used to you leaving them, after all."

He gestured for her to come in the large plane.

This was too good to be true.

(Y/n) took a few cautious steps inside and felt her jaw drop. The plane was beyond what she imagined. Flawless red carpets covered the floors, and the ceilings were adorned with crystal chandeliers. There were a few waiters and waitresses, waiting for orders.

The Allies looked as if this was nothing new to them.

France was lying on his side, drinking fine French wine, as America ate hamburgers and played on the xBox console that was linked to a large TV. Russia just sat in a corner, smiling creepily and Yao was petting Panda. Canada was reading a book (entitled 'The secret of the Maple Leaf'), with Kumajiro on his lap.

"Make yourself at home, love," said England, snapping (y/n) out of her daze. She gave a small nod, and watched England settle next to Canada, pulling out a book of his own.

She walked around awkwardly for a few minutes, before taking a seat on a one-person armchair, luxuriously cushioned. It creaked lightly under her weight, and she sunk so deep that the girl thought she might have broken it. But apparently, wooden chairs were far less comfortable than the ones they had here.

Something white caught (y/n)'s (e/c) eyes. On a nearby stool, there was paper and a pencil. Although she preferred music to drawing, it was better than nothing.

The girl stood and walked to the stool, then picking up the materials. Once back on her chair, she began sketching, not really paying attention to her drawing. Once or twice, when her eyes flickered up, she caught an Ally staring at her. Most of the time it was England, for whatever reason, but she had also caught Russia, Canada, and even America. She frowned in confusion, still sketching subconsciously. Why were they looking at her like that?

(Y/n) received her answer when she looked self-consciously down at her clothing. Pink colour covering her cheeks, the girl realized that she still had twigs stuck in her (h/c) hair, and she was the only poor-looking country on the plane.

Although knowing it wouldn't make much of a difference, (y/n) attempted finger-combing her (h/c) locks, taking out the many twigs that were stuck there. She shook her head after a few attempts, thinking that she'd ask France for a brush, since his hair was always neatly styled.

(Y/n) went back to her doodling after that, and she realized that she was drawing angel wings again. She sighed. It was always angel wings, for whatever reason. Always.

England was watching her again. He had been doing so for a while now, only to steal glances at his book when she looked up.

"Love, what are you drawing?" he asked suddenly, startling her. (Y/n) had been staring into space for the past few seconds, and his question came out of nowhere.

"Well, I..." her question trailed off and she decided to just turn the paper over so the Brit could see it.

"(C/n), this is amazing!" he exclaimed in shock of how realistically beautiful her sketch was.

(Y/n) flushed.

"T-thanks," she said softly, as England held out the paper for her to take back. The girl shook her head.

"You can keep it," (y/n) told him, holding a hand in protest. He gave her an are-you-sure look, earning a nod in return.

"Well, he said after storing it into one of his business binders. "Thanks, love."

b*~ C~*/b

As the next 24 hours dragged on (the Allies were heading to China's), (y/n) became increasingly closer to the group, spending time with each of them. The girl played video games with America, read and discussed hockey with Canada, cooed over Panda with China, gotten France to do her hair and even joked around with Russia, much to the other countries' shock.

Although Britain was also very kind and gentlemanly toward her, something made (y/n) keep her distance from him, only stealing occasional glances and chatting lightly every now and then.

Around 11 pm, everyone dozed off, exhausted from a day's worth of talking. Even (y/n), who still didn't like being on a plane that much, fell asleep, her now styled (thanks to France) (h/c) locks covering her face ever so slightly. Her soft breaths weren't heard by anyone, except England, who was looking at- no, iadmiring/i the girl.

If he thought she was pretty before, it was nothing compared to now. Although he hated to admit it, he had to say that France had done a good job fixing her hair, and the new hairstyle fitted her already lovely face perfectly.

"Get a hold of yourself," mumbled England. "You've just met her, for goodness' sake."

Eventually, he too fell asleep.

b*~ C~*/b

(Y/n) was awoken rather roughly the next morning.

There she lay, sleeping peacefully when America decided that it would be a good idea to wake her as violently as possible.

So, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her sharply, yelling "YO (Y/N)! WAKE UP OR ELSE, DUDETTE!" the whole time.

After about twelve seconds, the poor girl fell off her couch, muttering a curse, waking those who hadn't been disturbed by America's loud yells.

"You just had to do that," said (y/n), rolling her eyes and standing up, sticking her tongue out at the loud country. "You had to, didn't you?"

"Yup!" he said happily, laughing the whole time. "The Hero wins again!"

"Oh shut it!" came England's cranky voice from the other end of the plane. "That's no way to wake a lady! Have I taught you nothing?"

The two spent the next half hour bickering.

"Hello, sirs, and miss," said a small attendant who had just entered, stopping the arguments in the room. "The plane will be landing soon, so please strap yourselves in."

The countries obeyed (reader-chan is a country too, don't forget.) and each sat down on couches and chairs, pulling out seat belts and securing themselves.

After a while, the plane landed and (y/n) began wondering where the heck she was going to stay.


	4. Chapter 3

As the Allies piled out the private plane's door, (y/n) was extremely worried. She hadn't thought about somewhere to stay when she got on the plane, and there was no way she could afford a decent hotel, since most of her money went to feeding her people.

So she stood at the base of the stairs, twiddling her thumbs nervously and searching her mind for a solution to this problem.

The girl was starring off into space when Canada interrupted her train of thoughts.

"M-Miss (c/n)?" came his nervously stuttering voice. (Y/n) met his eyes and smiled softly in encouragement.

"Yes, Canada?" replied the girl.

"W-Well, I w-was wondering if you were c-coming to the next world conference," began the Canadian. "W-We'd love t-to have you there, y-you know."

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat. She was a country, but she had never really attended world conferences for financial reasons, since traveling cost so much.

But now, the girl had a perfect opportunity to become more normal, to ally with some others, to improve not only her financial status, but also increase her country's population.

"Sure!" responded (y/n) anxiously. Canada then smiled and led her to where the rest of the Allies were standing, waiting for their luggage.

b*~ C~*/b

After that long flight, China headed to his home (where the conference was being held this time) and the rest of the Allies decided to rent a few hotel rooms.

(Y/n) just kind of stood at the hotel's entrance, refusing to step foot in it and hoping that the Allies would leave her behind, allowing her to find a nice bench to sleep on for the night.

However, the girl's wishes didn't come true.

England, as usual, being the gentleman he was, stopped at the door and held it open for (y/n), who let out a small sigh and shook her head. When the Brit tilted his head sideways in confusion, she decided to explain.

"I can't," muttered (c/n). "Don't have the money..."

The look on England's face was a mixture of shock, horror, sadness and empathy after her words.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked the girl. "You can stay with me, there are two beds, after all."

The englishman then gestured again for her to enter the luxurious-looking hotel, earning a defeated sigh on her part. (Y/n) knew that there was no way he was going to let her refuse, so she took a few conscious steps into the warmth of the welcoming inn.

A soft click of the door indicated that England had followed her inside. The girl turned and looked at him thankfully, letting him walk ahead of her. He lead her through the endlessly beautifully decorated halls, up the elevators and to his reserved room.

The Brit took out a key-card and scanned it, using an odd-looking gadget that was nailed onto the door. Then, another device popped out of that one, and England lowered himself to it's height, right eye poised exactly in front of it.

With a quick green flash, a click sounded and the door opened, showing an immense hotel room, full with a master bedroom with two beds, a huge bathroom with a gigantic tub, an outdoor balcony, a flat-screen TV that looked extremely expensive, and the sweet smell of vanilla flowing through the place.

"Wow," breathed (y/n) mouth gaping at how amazing the so-called 'hotel room'. England chuckled, and walked inside, settling himself on a perfectly cushioned couch.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do, and something was telling her not to sit next to Britain, so she walked past the Brit and went onto the large outdoor balcony, breathing in the rare fresh air in China (because of factories, etc.).

The girl propped her elbows onto the railing protecting her from falling, and closed her eyes, smiling serenely at the sunset that she didn't even need to see to love.

b*~ C~*/b

He fell asleep to the sound of a sweet melody. iHer/i sweet melody.

England didn't know how (c/n) did it, how she played so well. But that was just one of the many things he didn't understand about the country.

He couldn't think of a good reason to her beauty. (C/n) was one of the most broke countries the Brit had seen, after Sealand, of course, but something about her was just... iangelic/i.

He didn't understand why instead of keeping her money to herself and to her military, she gave it to her people for food.

But most of all, England didn't understand why she gave him this happy feeling. It wasn't attraction- the Brit had admired a few other women and was kind of familiar with the feeling- just... pure ilove/i and ihappiness/i.

It was all so confusing. But he wanted to figure it out.

b*~ C~*/b

The next morning, England realized two things: the music had stopped, and (c/n) was lying on the second bed, face as peaceful as ever, still in her tattered clothes from the day the Allies had come across her island.

A surge of guilt ran through Britain and he made a decision.

b*~ C~*/b

(C/n) let out a lazy yawn and used her arms to push herself to a sitting position on the amazingly comfy bed in England's hotel room. After sitting there for a few minutes, taking time to properly wake up, the girl stood silently, and made her way to the bathroom.

Stepping inside, a pile of gorgeous clothes, folded neatly onto the counter of the bathroom, caught the girl's eye. When (y/n) moved closer to the attire, she noticed a small note lying on top of it.

'iFor you, (y/n),/i' said the paper, in attractive handwriting.

(Y/n) gave a small smile, took a shower and put on the clothes.

When she came out of the bathroom and settled on the same couch as Britain, keeping a safe distance for a reason she didn't know, (y/n) said a small 'thank you' and watched Doctor Who with England for the rest of the morning, in her dressy clothes that were only to be shown during the afternoon, when the conference would take place.

b*~ C~*/b

Eyes followed (c/n) when she stepped into China's meeting room, their owners either wondering who she was, or what she had done to look so... sophisticatedly beautiful.

The girl simply ignored the stares and made her way down the long hall, walking at a quick pace in comparison to China.

Once in the large meeting room, decorations adorned with a traditional Chinese theme, (y/n) took a seat next to a uptight-looking man with a neatly styled mop of hair and a strange brown curl surging from top of his head.

Later, the girl recognized this man as Austria, the musical legend.

As the meeting dragged on, the countries in it as uncooperative as ever, (y/n) decided to talk to Austria, whom was huffing in annoyance at all the fights in the room, about music.

"H-Hello, Mr Austria," stuttered (y/n) nervously. The country's stern eyes met hers.

"Hello," he said simply. "Vhat do you vant?"

"Well," continued (c/n). "You're good at music, right?"

Austria looked offended that (y/n) would even doubt his musical talents and rolled his eyes.

"Of course I am," snapped Austria. "Vhat about it?"

(C/n) gulped; she hoped she hadn't offended him too much.

"Would you mind listening to me play?" she blurted out quickly. "And maybe tell me if I'm any good?"

Austria looked away for a minute or two, thinking about his decision, before nodding slightly and making (y/n) smile a little.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

b*~ C~*/b

After the meeting, which had turned out as useless as normal, (y/n) stuck around the conference room with Austria, who had thankfully managed to find every instrument possible in China's house.

(It's Austria, what did you expect?)

"Alright then," said Austria, turning his attention away from the last countries that were leaving and toward (c/n). "Vhat instrument do you play?"

"Umm," began (y/n). "All of them, actually..."

Austria seemed shocked for a second, before recovering and handing (y/n) a lyre. He said that it was a challenging instrument and that he thought it would suit her.

(C/n) positioned herself, putting her fingers on all the right strings and holding the lyre with an unmatchable grace.

Then, she began to play.

The song (y/n) was playing was iMidnight Sonata/i. It wasn't the easiest, nor the hardest. But she just loved the sound of it.

Her fingers moved easily and quickly, swiftly pulling all the right strings and causing flawless notes to echo through the large room.

As the girl continued playing the music, the sound of footsteps was heard and many countries entered the room, in a trance-like state from hearing the beautiful sound.

They didn't stay that way for long, as (y/n) was already finished the lovely melody and the sound of clapping burst through the place.

It wasn't America, Poland, or any of the countries that had just followed their ears to this area.

It was iAustria/i.

And he was amazed by the iangelic/i aspect of (y/n)'s music.

b*~ C~*/b

(C/n) had to push her way through a crowd of newly-found admirers, or the other countries, to get back to Britain's hotel room.

The girl was expecting to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow that night, and sleep like a baby, because boy, was she exhausted.

(Y/n) was sort of right.

Although falling asleep in the new pyjamas England had lent her was easy, (y/n) didn't sleep well at all that night.

Her mind was clouded by endless nightmares, all of pitch black evil and darkness.

And only God knew why.


End file.
